Chapter 0.1

Reiko’s mornings always began with fire.

A pallid ember rested in a hearth of ash. Reiko had tried everything: dousing the flames with rivulets of water or smothering it with cloth. Sometimes, she tried using her own body to extinguish the flames.

Nothing ever worked.

The fire endured until the moment of her awakening, when it tore through the darkness and consumed her body, and Reiko awakened that morning feeling as if her limbs and bones were moth wings cannibalized by candlelight.

Reiko lay with her back flat on her mattress. She stared up at the ceiling until the scorching heat in her veins subsided, a full half hour of every day she had been forced to let go. She also glanced at the inert air conditioner above the bed; she had learned leaving it on at night did little to ease the pain and her electricity bill became a separate, albeit equally unpleasant, affair.

When Reiko turned her head, a woman lay beside her, nested beneath linen sheets. This one wore a crown of tendrilled black hair and an excess of smeared pink lipstick. Reiko remembered the woman clinging to her arms, begging Reiko to accompany her longer because she was so lonely every night, because her husband was on yet another business trip, because Reiko looked lonely too, because this, because that…

As her fingers cooled, Reiko reached over and stroked the woman’s dimpled cheeks. Tears mixed with the woman’s eyeliner and spotted the pillow with the color of summer hydrangea.

“Poor thing,” Reiko murmured, then lifted herself out of bed and slid the bedroom door closed.

Outside sat the kitchenette which, aside from an empty styrofoam bowl of instant noodles, Reiko kept spotless. She crossed the length of the kitchen and stepped into the adjacent bathroom, where she entered the shower and thumbed the nozzle.

Ice cold water rained upon her body and pooled in the cradle made from her short fingers. Droplets dripped from her overgrown bob cut to the bridge of her lean nose, then to the scarlet mark that ran in the crevice between two pale half moons. A thin waterfall cascaded down her back and rippled over a gray flower painted with fraying petals blooming towards her taut shoulders.

The cold shower itself was unnecessary. The roaring flames inside her body had long abated. There wasn’t even any lingering sweat to rinse off, a fact that took Reiko months to accept.

What the cold shower gave to Reiko was a rebalancing of the sense of normal, of The Now. It was a way to soft reset the blistering morning so that she could tell herself that her day only began when she stepped into the shower.

A metallic trill rang out from the kitchen right as Reiko reached for her shampoo.

“Shit,” Reiko twisted the shower closed. She wrapped her body with the nearest cotton towel and bolted out of the restroom.

An old landline phone rattled against the counter beneath the microwave. The word “CHIEF” blinked on the small green LED screen, then winked off when Reiko snatched the device from the receiver.

“This is Nakamura,” Reiko whispered.

“Why aren’t you answering your cellphone?”

Reiko snuck a glance at the closed bedroom door, then tiptoed dripping wet into the living room. The sunlight that peeked in through peach colored curtains revealed a miniature couch, a kotatsu, and an old television that sat against the opposing wall.

“I, uh…” Reiko muttered. “It ran out of battery.”

“Do you even know what’s going on outside right now?”

“Why don’t you tell me, chief?”

“Damn it, Reiko,” the voice on the other line sounded too exasperated for a pleasant winter morning. “Has she even woken up yet?”

“Who’s woken up?”

“The woman you brought home with you last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking–” Reiko stopped herself. It was also too early to test her own luck. “She’s still asleep. Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not,” Section Chief Kazuo Shinomiya growled. Reiko could hear Kazuo chewing, likely on a cigar. Bad news. “You better turn on the news, captain.”

Reiko nabbed the remote control from the coffee table and powered on the television. She dried her arms and legs, then fastened the towel into a bun around her hair. Heaps of clothes, some not belonging to her, leaned against the couch. Reiko fetched the cleanest looking undershirt and white oxford from the pile.

“–to our top story this morning,” came the TV broadcaster. “The international league of witches, known as the Egregore Seven, has announced that this year’s annual tea party will be held in Sapporo City. The decision from Castle Gramarye comes as a surprise to members of the National Diet, as prior speculation had suggested Reykjavík, Iceland as the leading candidate for this year’s venue…”

“You ever been to Reykjavík before, chief?” Reiko clutched the phone between her chin as she buttoned up her shirt. She left the top two buttons undone.

“I’m not sure that’s the most important detail here.”

“What’s the Safety Commission doing about this?”

“Why do you think I’m calling you?”

“They’re giving this one to us?” Reiko asked. “What about the murder case?”

“We would’ve solved it by now if you weren’t so busy escorting married women–”

“Chief. I’m serious.”

“So am I, Reiko, and so is the Commission. Arataki says to wrap it up by the end of the week, or they’ll close the case for good.”

“You’re joking,” she scoffed.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Kazuo grumbled. “That’s why I need you here at headquarters in an hour. I convinced our beloved seniors to finally give us more firepower. We’ve got about two dozen applicants lined up this afternoon.”

“They’re giving us some real help for once?” Reiko scrambled over the floor and fished out a pair of charcoal slacks.

“Fresh meat from the academy. You know how it is,” Kazuo sighed. “I’ll hand you the dossiers when you’ve arrived, captain. Shinomiya, out.”

The phone line clicked off with a sharp, inelegant buzz.

Reiko unwound her bath towel. She patted her hair trying to catch any final beads of water. She fumbled through the clothes pile again for socks and a brown hemp belt before realizing she had strung said belt over the coat rack by the front door along with her vintage ashen blazer and leather boots.

“Hello? Yumi?”

The bedroom door creaked open. The woman Reiko had woken up next to watched her with a slow, drifting expression.

“Oh,” Reiko smiled. “Sorry, Himiko. Good morning. Did I wake you?”

“It’s quite alright,” the woman nodded. “Good morning. Are you… are you leaving already, Yumi?”

Reiko brushed past the woman and entered the bedroom. She grabbed her mobile phone from the nightstand. Eleven missed calls flashed up on her notifications.

“Yes. I’m leaving,” Reiko said. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, some salmon. If you want miso soup, I have instant soup packets in the cupboard. You’re free to take a shower too, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stay too long.”

“When will I see you again, Yumi?”

“You won’t.”

The woman’s eyes widened.

“Yumi? What do you mean by that?”

Reiko printed her right thumb on the woman’s chin and lifted up her face. She leaned in close and stared deep into the woman’s gaze with empty pastel blue irises.

“You won’t see me again, Himiko,” Reiko repeated.

The woman stared back at first, but a bloodstained, pulsing light emerged from the depths of Reiko’s pupils. Bright, violet threads danced across her eyes like a surge of lightning, while a crimson flame set her azure pupils ablaze.

The woman gasped and fell to the ground. She shuddered and covered her stricken eyes with wrinkled hands. Reiko gripped the front door and shut it behind her.

“For your own sake, I think you should be kinder to your husband from now on, Himiko,” she said. “Goodbye.”